


A matter of communication

by Hypatia_66



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Communication Failure, F/M, Het, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 08:32:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17742527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatia_66/pseuds/Hypatia_66
Summary: LJ Short Affair challenge. Prompts: enter, dig, pinkNapoleon's communicator sends an alarm signal and interrupts a promising evening





	A matter of communication

Napoleon had given the new pen communicator a number of epithets, some of them unrepeatable such as the Latin one he referred to by the acronym C.I.P., or less luridly Passion-killer-pen, so whenever he failed to respond to a call you generally knew why.

Illya shared his views on the pen – at least from the passion-killing point of view – but as his forays into passion were fewer, and certainly further between, he bore interruptions to his sleep with fairly good grace. But the pen lived up (or down) to its name to annoying effect one night when Illya and his date were in bed and it intruded upon a crucial moment.

“This had better be good,” he snapped into the microphone. “Oh! Sorry, sir…”

“Mr Kuryakin, the alarm signal has sounded from Mr Solo’s communicator and we can’t make contact with him. Do you know what he was planning to do this evening?”

Illya rolled over and sat up. “Offhand, no, sir. Where is the signal coming from?”

The location wasn’t far away. He capped the pen and turned to his disappointed partner. “I’m sorry, I have to go – hazard of the job. Can I come again?”

“If your boss will give you the chance to come at all,” she said and smiled as he went a little pink.

<><> 

The area was familiar. Illya looked around wondering why, then remembered. This was where Angelique lived, and his lips tightened. The signal was coming from the shadows outside her block where there was a large tub containing some kind of bushy plant. He crouched beside it to dig in the pot with his fingers but the soil was too compacted. He shook the bush instead and the pen fell into his hand.

Without a lot of hope, he rang the bell to Angelique’s apartment and was almost surprised when she answered.

“I need to talk to you,” he said.

“Illya, darling, how … nice. Come up, do.”

The door opened and he went to the elevator. She was waiting in the doorway to her apartment, wrapped in a filmy peignoir.

He could smell Napoleon’s distinctive cologne as she led him to her sitting room. “Where is he?” he said, without preamble. “Is he here?”

“Why don’t you sit down? Make yourself comfortable.”

Illya ignored this. “I found his communicator outside. The alarm had been activated. What’s happened to him?”

“Darling, I’ve no idea.”

“So, he _was_ here. Who was waiting for him when he left?”

“Darling, sit down, he’ll be all right. I’ll make you a coffee – or would you prefer a scotch?” She pushed him gently down onto the sofa.

“I don’t want a coffee, _or_ a scotch, or anything else. I just want to know where Napoleon is and who’s got him.”

She slid down beside him and twined her fingers in his hair. He resisted and pushed her away.

“Leave me alone. You may have bewitched my partner, but you cannot charm me.”

“Darling,” she said reproachfully, “I’m sure I could. You seem a little in need of charm. Just relax – do you think Napoleon would be jealous?”

He jumped up and stood facing her. “There is nothing for him to be jealous of.”

She likewise rose and put her arms round his neck. “I’ve always wanted to know what kissing you would be like,” she said, suiting action to the word.

He pushed her away again, furious this time. She just smiled. “Do you know how delicious you look when you’re angry?”

He took her by the shoulders and shook her. “Where – is – my – partner?”

“You don’t kiss as well as he does.”

“I didn’t kiss you. You kissed me.”

“You looked as if you needed kissing. You still do,” and knowing that he wouldn’t hit a woman, she wrapped her arms around his neck again and pressed her lips to his. He thrust her away and then saw her look over his shoulder. He spun round.

Napoleon entered the room, smiling a little dangerously. “Don’t let me interrupt,” he said.

“Where have you been?” demanded Illya, holding out Napoleon’s communicator. “This was sending an alarm.” He glared at him. “And _I_ was ordered to come and find you.”

“And thought you’d found a willing partner instead, I see.”

“I had a willing partner already, thank you. _This_ creature was willing, _I_ was not.”

“Not how it looked from here, my friend.”

“Maybe you should choose your willing partners more carefully – and your belongings for that matter. I found this in the pot outside,” Illya snapped.

Napoleon looked puzzled. “How did it get there?”

Illya rolled his eyes. “I’m going home,” he said and went to the door.

“Just a minute – I’d like to know why you assumed I’d be here.”

“I didn’t, but you obviously had been. I came here to find out where her friends had taken you.”

“They hadn’t taken me anywhere. I just went to get a takeout – see,” and he held up a bag.

“So, how did your communicator end up in a bush with its alarm set?”

Napoleon looked a little sheepish. “I guess I checked my wallet and pulled the pen out with it. It must have activated when it landed.”

Angelique now spoke. “If you’re both staying, I’d better make coffee. Does anyone take cream and sugar?”

“I’m _not_ staying,” said Illya and stalked out.

<><> 

“I’ve come back,” he announced when his young woman opened her door sleepily. “May I come in?”

She eyed him suspiciously. “You’re all over lipstick – where have you been?”

“Nowhere I wanted to be,” he said grimly.

“But you seem to have found company… did you find your friend?”

“Not company, just an evil woman. But I did find my friend.” He opened his arms and as she relaxed into his hold, he said, “Please, can I come in? And go on from where we left off?”

“When you’ve got rid of the lipstick.”


End file.
